User blog:Snowpaw the Wild/The Heart of a Warrior

Dedicated to my family. As many problems as we have, I don't know what I would do without them.

Thanks to Skipper Rorc for betaing.

Prologue ~ A Story that is Not Ours
From above, Redwall Abbey looked like a beautiful cake. It was red, with white snow frosting. The snow was piled up in amazingly deep drifts, reflecting the moonlight, made it look almost like midday. Trees in the surrounding woodlands were bare and grey, fast asleep, dreaming of sunny afternoons in the summer. An occasional evergreen bravely held up its branches, laden with snow. Small animals took shelter from the beast of winter in their warm homes, while those more suited for the time of year remained in their homes anyway because it was cheerier. The River Moss was frozen over, the ice tough enough for a creature to walk on if he was careful. The plains west of the old Abbey resembled a snow-white blanket, spread evenly over the great expanse. On the road there was a thin crust of snow that had been formed the day before by the sun. But every time the three travelers put down their paws, they broke through the surface of the snow and sunk deep down into the drifts.

The ancient squirrel paused and looked up at the huge building in front of them. He turned to one of his companions, a squirrel of middle age, and commented, “That must be Redwall Abbey.”

The squirrel cheekily grinned. “Well, it’s definitely an abbey, it’s red, and its got walls. It fits the description.”

The other traveler, an old mouse, mock slapped the other. “Mind your manners, young ‘un.”

The middle aged squirrel took the paw of the first one to speak. “C’mon, Da, it’s cold out here.”

The older one laughed. “Yes, it is. You’re right, c’mon!” With that he dashed off with speed belaying his age, dragging his son with him.

Abbot Durral was walking along Great Hall on his way to Cavern Hole when the sound of somebeast pounding on the gates reached his ears. Martin, the Abbey Warrior, was also in the room. They looked at each other for a second, then hurried out of the Abbey building and to the gates. Martin heaved them open. He was bowled over by the elderly squirrel, who had been about to give the gates another hard strike when they opened. Martin found himself lying flat on his back with the squirrel on top of him.

“Get off him, Da! You’ll crush him!” exclaimed the other.

Martin pretended to groan. “Too late.”

The younger squirrel helped the old one up and offered Martin his paw. Martin took it and pulled himself to his feet.

Durral smiled. “Let’s go inside and get something to eat. Then, if you’re willing, we can hear your story.”

The four creatures went inside, and gathered around the fire in Cavern Hole. Many others came to see the new arrivals, who were in awe of the great building and the friendly attitude of its inhabitants. They introduced themselves as Romiedrell Voh, Darryle Treeflash and his son, Flashpaw. There was a magnificent feast, the best Redwall had to offer, that lasted for hours. Finally, Durral called for silence.

“Be quiet, please!” Seeing that this did not work, he clapped his paws. That didn’t work either. So he used a tactic that was usually his last resort. Cupping his paws about his mouth, he shouted, “The next creature who moves or speaks goes without supper tomorrow!”

There was immediate, deafening silence.

Durral smiled sweetly. “Thank you. I was wondering if our guests wanted to tell us their story.”

Darryle nodded. “We’ll tell you a story, but it’s not our story. It begins here, in Mossflower Woods, just a few miles south of Redwall…”

***
It was wintertime. The moon shone on the crusted snow that was spread evenly on the farmland about a day and a half’s journey south of Redwall. It was deeper than anyone could remember, and the little farmhouse was almost buried. Inside, eleven squirrels sat around the fire. The eldest was named Kam Keeneblade, and the one next to him was his son, called Raole Keeneblade. Raole’s wife, Kintail, was nursing their youngest, a small female born only a week ago. Lined up next to her were her seven other children: Kam (the second), Devin, Dinnya, Brouay, Ranore, Gretchen, and Darrire.

The children’s father eyed them sternly. “Why are all of you still up?”

Kam, the oldest, pointed an accusing paw at his father. “You said you were gonna name the baby today. We wanna see you name him!”

“It’s a her, Kam,” his mother gently reminded him. “But he’s right, Raole. We should name her. How about Rhena, after her grandmother?”

Kam (the elder) shook his head. “Not Rhena. She hated that name, and this one will too. Perhaps we should name her Kintail, after her mother.”

Kintail made a face, causing great merriment among the squirrelbabes.

Raole had been staring into space for some time. Now he looked down at his young daughter. “Look at her paw. No, the left one. See, it’s white. We should name her Snowpaw.”

“That’s too wild,” Kintail disagreed. “How about Whitepaw?”

This time Raole and Kam simultaneously made faces. Kintail laughed. “All right. Snowpaw it is. Now you can go to bed, children.”

But the babies still did not go. “An’ we wanna hear a lullbye!”

Kintail smiled gently. “That’s not too much to ask,” she agreed. “And I was just going to sing one anyway.”

With that she began an old, beautiful song. She had an excellent voice that went well with the song, and by the time she was finished, all her children were fast asleep.

“The water is wide, I cannot cross o’er.

But neither have I the wings to fly.

Build me a boat that can carry two,

And both shall row, my love and I.

“I leaned my back on a fine young oak,

I thought it was a trusty tree.

But first it bended and then it broke.

Thus did my love prove false to me.

“The water is wide.

The water is wide.

The water is wide.

The water is wide.

“Oh, love is fair and love is fine,

Bright as a rose when first it’s new.

But love grows old, and sometimes cold,

And fades away like the morning dew.”

Raole snorted. “Where’d you hear that? It definitely doesn’t apply to your life.”

“Hush! You’ll wake them,” Kintail whispered. “Although you’re right, it doesn’t. I heard it from an old hedgehog wife. It’s very relaxing. I implore the seasons that it won’t apply to Snowpaw’s.” She smiled at Raole and then looked down at the sleeping babe in her arms. Snowpaw Keeneblade.

***
''Three seasons later… ''

Kam (the elder), Raole, and Kintail sat around the fire. The children had been sent to bed almost an hour ago, and the elders were sitting around the fire talking.

There was no warning offered by the white fox who kicked the door open, nor was there any time for preparation. He immediately raised his sword and charged at Kintail, who was rooted to the spot with fear. Not so for Raole. He flung himself at the fox, arriving right before his wife was cloven in two. Kam grabbed a battleaxe and a sabre off the mantelpiece and tossed the sabre to Raole. Raole caught it in midair and he and the fox engaged in a ferocious battle. Dozens of vermin came piling in after their leader. Kintail began laying about her with a loaded sling, as Kam was doing with his battleaxe.

Suddenly, the mother realized that the vermin were piling all over the house. She charged for the bedroom, but too late. Both her husband and the white fox had arrived first. She nearly fainted at the sight before her; but knew that she must not do that. She leapt forward with a shout of “Keeneblaaaaaaade!”

Vermin came after her. Several of them grabbed her and the sling was pried from her grasp. Even as she began to struggle, she saw the fox disarm Raole and plunge his blade, a dirk traced with intricate patterns, forward. The squirrel warrior staggered backwards and fell to his knees.

What Kintail Keeneblade felt as she saw this cannot be described in words. She had gone through so much with her husband, and he had always been there for her. They had been the only survivors of a slaughter of their tribe; and had grown up together. Her whole world crashed in, falling to pieces. Nothing was left for her. Raole was gone, her children… the world spun without meaning.

Kintail had never been apt to bloodwrath. She had experienced it once, but it had been many years ago. On such an occasion as this. She did not know what happened for some time afterward, all she saw was the white fox, and she wanted him dead. When she came to herself, it was to the sound of a small voice.

“Mama! Mama!” She opened her eyes and saw Snowpaw. The babe was shaking her. “Mama!”

Kintail was lying on the floor. The white fox was standing over her, raising his blade. Snowpaw must have been hiding, but crept to her mother’s side when she saw her fall. The mother squirrel could not speak for a moment; her lungs must have been damaged. Finally, she managed to choke out, “Run, Snowpaw.”

The babe’s eyes widened. She realized every implication of the statement, and hated it. Her mother was going to sacrifice herself to try to give her a chance to escape. She stared into Kintail’s eyes, then bowed her head. With a quick whisk, she jumped up and headed for the window.

“Stop that squirrel!” roared the fox. Several vermin lunged at her, but she dodged them and leapt out onto the windowsill. There, she paused and looked back. The fox stared at her, sensing wrath and an oath for vengeance behind her eyes. He raised his blade, but before it struck, the squirrelmaid grabbed a dagger that she had picked up and hidden and flung it at him. It struck him in the shoulder.

“Snowpaw, run!” her mother screamed as she staggered to her feet and lunged at the fox. Snowpaw turned and leapt from the window onto the ground outside and vanished into the night. She choked back tears as she ran, the memory of her family’s last stand burning itself into her memory. She would remember that face. And one day, she would see it again.

As she reached the edge of the forest, she paused, and looked back at her birthplace one last time before leaving, never again to return.

***
And they think I don’t remember.

That I believe I’ve always lived

Behind these walls that, like a father,

''Protect those within from the outside. ''

''Though I’ve never told a soul ''

''The memory is there. ''

''It has taken its deadly toll; ''

A toll that I can hardly bear.